


Going Down in History

by ivelostallcontrolofmylife



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Crack, Don't forget, Drunk Victor Nikiforov, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, Five And One, Fluff, He doesn't deserve this, It's Dumb, Kinda, M/M, Poor yurio, Sexy Underwear, THE BEST, This Is STUPID, VictUuri, Victuri, Yuribek, a wedding, and it's a, and stops taking victor's shit, and there's too many bad pickup lines, drunk grinding, he calls him kolya, i mean what else could you want, it's there anyway, lots of dumb fluff, lowkey leo/guang-hong shippage, otayuri - Freeform, phichit is a cinnamon roll, the occasional sex toy, there's a lil bit of, there's pirozhkis, victor and nikolai are friends, victor has very little self control, victor is a shameless flirt, viktor's desperately in love, viktuuri, yurio is tormented by his dumb dads, yuuri grows as a person, yuuri is innocent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:11:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9079954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostallcontrolofmylife/pseuds/ivelostallcontrolofmylife
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov has absolutely no self control and a penchant for bad pickup lines. AKA Five Times Viktor Shamelessly Flirted With and Embarrassed Yuuri in Public, and the One Time He Got His Ass Absolutely Owned.





	

**Author's Note:**

> (You would not believe the amount of crap I had to go through just to post this damn thing)
> 
> This was spawned by this post with one of my favourite jokes of all time --> http://dramaticaltitanawakening.tumblr.com/post/154406676301/savage
> 
> and it turned into this gorgeous hot mess
> 
> *'luchik' means 'ray of light' in Russian (I believe; if I'm wrong, please correct me!)

1.

The banquet’s in full swing, Viktor’s on his ninth glass of champagne, and Yuuri’s danced with him twice tonight. Overall, he’d say the night has been pretty successful. The only negative is that the dancing was fully clothed because Yuuri’s only had two drinks, but as soon as he thinks about that his jaw clenches. Remembering that earlier banquet, how Yuuri had held onto him for dear life, grinding his hips with surprising talent, sparks an ember of heat in his chest. The subsequent images his tipsy mind decides to bring up – of the shy skater he’d fallen for stripping off the rest of his clothes and pole dancing with Chris in front of a mildly concerned crowd – fans that ember into a flame of jealousy. _It’s good Yuuri hasn’t drunk more. If anyone’s going to see him like that again, it’s me and only me._

He looks around the room. Yuuri disappeared a little while ago, mumbling an excuse that Viktor hadn’t caught. He’d assumed he’d be back. He wasn’t. He rakes his gaze over the gathered people, sees some he recognises, but not Yuuri. As quickly as the jealousy appeared, it drops away to allow worry to take its place.

Something knocks his elbow and he glances over to see Otabek. His face is as expressionless as Viktor remembers as he says, “Yuuri’s looking for you.”   
Viktor perks up at that. Otabek turns without another word and walks away. For a moment Viktor stands there, confused, until it pierces his foggy brain that he’s supposed to follow.

It’s not hard to follow the quietly-intimidating Kazakh skater through the crowd. Otabek leads him to a slightly quieter side room, where a few women are gathered in a group chatting cheerfully, and two men joke loudly with each other. He’s surprised to see Yurio standing there, scowling, arms folded across his chest. Viktor opens his mouth to speak, to say that while there was nothing wrong with Yurio, it was his Yuuri he was looking for, but he’s cut off by the teenager throwing out his arm and pointing to his right.  
“You should take care of your stupid boyfriend,” he says. Viktor follows the movement – slowly; his eyes are starting to ache now and his vision is a little blurred. There’s a line of chairs along the side of the room and Yuuri sits slumped in one of them, a hand pressed hard against his forehead.

Viktor can almost feel the change overcome him. It’s as if the nine glasses of champagne don’t exist, and he hasn’t spent the past fifteen minutes moping about not having Yuuri next to him. He sways over to him and leans heavily on Yuuri’s shoulders, caging him in. Yuuri, eyes closed, doesn’t see him until he’s trapped under his weight, and then he jerks his hand away and yelps in surprise.   
“Yuuri!” Viktor says, delighted to have found him.   
“Viktor…” Yuuri groans, and even though some small sober part of his brain knows that it’s not that kind of groan, the rest of Viktor is entirely sure he’s never heard anything so erotic in his life.   
“What’s the matter, my little katsudon?” He props one knee up on the chair beside Yuuri. It’s hard to keep himself grounded right now. Yuuri blinks dazedly, mutters, “I think I’m dying.”   
In the background somewhere, Viktor hears a snort of laughter. Something wild grows in him, ready to turn around and fight for his Yuuri, but he forces it down in favour of running his fingers across the other’s jaw.   
“ _Luchik_ ,” he drawls “You’re alright. You’re perfect. You’re beautiful. You’re gorgeous.”   
There’s a gagging noise behind him. Viktor doesn’t pay any attention this time. Yuuri frowns, squinting behind his glasses. Concerned, Viktor tries to smooth out the lines across his forehead.   
“Viktor, I have… the _worst_ headache. Can we go?”   
Something pushes at his shoulder and Viktor tries to fight it. But despite his best, sloppy efforts, Otabek gets past him, holding out a glass of water and a few small pills. Yuuri takes them gratefully as Viktor watches on, pouting.   
“How are you feeling?” a new voice pipes up. Viktor looks back over his shoulder. His vision swims for a moment, but it clears enough for him to recognise Yuuri’s Thai friend. Phichit? Phichit.

Yuuri groans again, and Viktor _feels_ it. He shoves Otabek out of the way to keep Yuuri beneath him and him alone.  
“I want to go lie down, but I also don’t want to move at all.”   
Viktor tugs on Yuuri’s tie. To his annoyance, Yuuri bats his hand away.   
“I shouldn’t have had anything to drink, it’s just made it worse,” he moans. Viktor feels it ripple through his body. His eyelids flutter. Maybe nine champagnes were a bad idea.  
“Maybe you should just sit here a while and see if those pills work,” Phichit suggests. Otabek grunts in agreement. Yurio grumbles under his breath. Viktor’s not really paying much attention. What he does hear is Yuuri mumbling, “Yeah, I’ll just… I’ll do that.” He crushes his eyes shut for a long moment, and when he opens them again he focuses on Viktor, inches from his face. “Viktor… I’m going to… I’m going to stay here. Go enjoy yourself.” He smiles weakly.   
“Okay!” Viktor says cheerfully, and promptly drops himself into Yuuri’s lap.   
Yuuri jumps, wincing as the movement jerks his head. “You don’t have to… stay here.”   
“You said to enjoy myself!”   
“What’s going on?” 

There are too many new voices for Viktor to keep track of. First Phichit, and now… Chris? Maybe.   
“Yuuri’s not feeling well,” Phichit says. Yurio sighs dramatically. “And Viktor’s drunk.”   
“Viktor, leave the poor boy alone,” Chris laughs.   
He feels a hand on his back and quickly he swats it away. “No,” he whines. “Yuuri’s mine and I love him. I love him and he’s mine and you can’t have him.”   
Yuuri blushes bright red beneath him. With a smile, Viktor caresses his face. “So what are we going to do?” he asks. The nine champagnes have already slurred his words, but he adds the extra purr because he has one topic on his mind and Yuuri needs to know it. 

Yuuri blinks and stammers, “V-Viktor…” His name is echoed by Chris, but he only focuses on Yuuri. He settles more comfortably on his lap and Yuuri gasps suddenly.   
“Maybe I could just sit here and talk about the first thing that…” Without any warning, hesitation, or decency, he grinds his hips down hard “ _pops_ up?” 

The reaction is mixed – Viktor keeps forgetting there’s people behind him. Chris bursts into laughter. Phichit inhales, sounding scandalised. Yurio chokes. But it’s Yuuri he’s watching. He squeaks, a high-pitched noise that wavers between arousal and shock. He lifts both hands. One returns to rubbing his forehead, whilst the other pushes at Viktor’s shoulder.

Viktor doesn’t have much of a chance to respond. Someone grabs at the back of his jacket and bodily hauls him off. Viktor watches, sprawled on his back on the floor, as Phichit sits down next to Yuuri, rubs his arm, asks if he’s okay. For a moment, he’s surprised the little Thai boy had the strength to move him. But then Chris looms over him, hands on his hips, and he realises who actually did the heavy lifting. He doesn’t say anything; just stands there and shakes his head. Viktor looks past him to Yuuri, where… Phichit is moving him! They’re both on their feet, although Yuuri is unsteady and leaning heavily on his friend. He gives a weak smile to Viktor, before Phichit leads him away.

“Yuuuuuuri!” Viktor whines.   
Something knocks his head. Surprisingly quickly, he grabs onto it. With a disgusted shout, Yurio kicks him away. “Ugh, get off me!”   
Chris and Otabek help him off the floor. As they drag him toward the closest exit, Chris laughs. “You know, that’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard. Even I haven’t used it.”  
The thought springs unbidden to his mind. Viktor grins lopsidedly. “I can do better.”   
“Maybe when you’re not drunk,” Yurio mutters behind him.   
Viktor smiles devilishly over his shoulder. “You’re on.”   
Yurio’s eyes widen. “No!”

 

2.

Yuuri hauls the box up onto the table, smiling widely. He dusts himself off and says, “That’s the last one.”   
“Good,” Yurio mutters. “I’m done helping you guys.”   
Viktor pats him on the head, which earns him a shove and a vicious glare. “But we still need to help Yuuri unpack!”   
As Yurio starts to rant about the unfairness of it all, about how he didn’t even want to be here but Viktor had tricked him into helping, Viktor tunes him out. He opens one of the boxes strewn across the table and gazes curiously at the contents. It’s just clothes, jumbled together in a tangled mess, but he can’t help but tease. “Oh, look Yurio! All of Yuuri’s sexy underwear!”   
Yuuri stares at him in horror, jaw loose – at least, until he starts rambling in a panic about not having any sexy underwear, what’s Viktor talking about, he’s insane! Yurio grimaces and Viktor’s sure his eye starts twitching.   
“You two are disgusting,” he grumbles.  
“You’re going to have to be a lot nicer to Yuuri now!” Viktor says cheerfully. He closes up the box and passes it quickly to Yurio. “After all, we are going to be training together! Now, can you put that in the bedroom?”   
Yurio drops the box, recoiling from it in horror. Viktor has trouble keeping back his laughter as the teenager kicks it in the general direction of the bedroom. He follows it, continuing to kick it to move it across the floor. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Viktor turns to Yuuri, who’s staring at him.  
“I don’t have any sexy underwear,” is all he can say.   
“ _Luchik_ , any underwear you wear is sexy to me.”   
Yuuri starts to reply but stops mid-sentence, mouth open. Viktor smiles at him. It’s been too long since he’s enjoyed the comfort of having Yuuri close to him, to be able to talk with him without a screen being in the way. The few months after the Grand Prix finals, of getting the move sorted out, of getting everything packed and sent over and all the official business dealt with, had been torture. But now Yuuri was here, standing in his kitchen, blushing and with wonder sparkling in his eyes.

He laughs and presses a kiss to Yuuri’s cheek. “You’re too precious, darling.”   
The smile he gets back is golden. He doesn’t want to wait another second. He grabs Yuuri by the hips, pushes him back against the table. His breath ghosts over the other’s cheek as Yuuri’s hands shift of their own accord in surprise, one resting lightly on his lower back and the other around the back of his neck. He doesn’t want to wait but he does, just for a few heartbeats, to make sure Yuuri’s okay. He spent too many hours on his knees with blurred vision and a pounding head, begging for forgiveness that Yuuri was embarrassed to give. He wasn’t about to repeat the same mistakes.

Yuuri tilts his head up slightly, and it’s enough for their lips to meet. The kiss is gentle at first, a soft moment spent relearning each other. But it’s not long before it’s needy and insistent and pushing. Viktor keeps a tight hold on Yuuri’s hips, dragging him closer. Yuuri gives as good as he gets. His fingers bunch in Viktor’s shirt and twist in his hair, pulling his head down sharply. In one quick movement, Viktor slips his hands under his thighs and lifts him to perch on the edge of the table. But just as Yuuri wraps his legs around Viktor’s hips, lifts his own just a fraction, a disgusted screech echoes through the room and they jump apart.

Yurio stands a few feet away. His eye is definitely twitching. “Do you have to do that while I’m here?”   
Yuuri blushes, pushes Viktor away. Maybe it’s the fact someone’s there, or he’s remembering the dreaded banquet incident – either of them – but he’s suddenly shy, running a hand through his hair and looking anywhere but at Viktor or Yurio.

The thought of the banquet, the conversation with Chris and Yurio and a silent Otabek, makes Viktor’s next decision for him. There’s the possibility that the blood leaving his brain also has something to do with the decision-making process. He makes eye contact with Yurio, grins, and tugs Yuuri closer by his hips.   
“Yuuri,” he says, “Are you my little toe?”   
Both Yuuri and Yurio stare at him. Viktor’s grin widens. When Yuuri stammers, “I-I don’t…”, Viktor leans in, keeping his eyes on Yurio as he says in a low tone, “Because I want to bang you on every piece of furniture in this place.”

He wishes he could photograph the reactions. Yuuri freezes. Yurio gags and backs away. “I’m not staying here.” He storms towards the front door, but when he gets there he pauses and throws over his shoulder, “And anyway, that one’s terrible! I hope Chris didn’t teach you that one!” He slams the door behind him. Viktor stopped listening when Yuuri arched his back beneath him, hips shifting along the table until they met Viktor’s. He brushes the silver fringe out of the way and asks, somewhat dazed, “What was he talking about? What were _you_ talking about?”   
Viktor smiles. He gently touches Yuuri’s thigh and he gets the message instantly, wrapping his legs around him again. “Nothing, darling.”   
He knows it’s been far too long – Yuuri’s always patient, nervous, waiting for Viktor to make the first move. Now, he’s rocking his hips up gently without even realising, tugging Viktor’s hair to get him to return to the kissing. He does as he’s asked, kissing Yuuri with the weight of months of pining behind him. He smirks against his lips. “I wasn’t joking though. How about we start with the table, and then maybe I’ll let you choose the next piece of furniture to break.” 

He loves the choked sound of surprise he gets.

 

3.

For the fifth time that morning, Yakov shouts across the rink, “Viktor!”   
As he skates by, he lifts a hand in apology, but he doesn’t really mean it. A part of him does, but the larger part of him is already yet again distracted by Yuuri nailing another triple axel. He’s too busy watching his skater glide across the ice to notice the figure making for him at near-full speed. It’s only when he’s knocked unceremoniously on his back that he realises Yurio is standing over him, chest heaving with the effort he’s been putting into his training. Unlike Viktor.   
“Stop staring at your stupid boyfriend.”  
“Fiancé.” The word rolls off his tongue without a thought. But the giddy feeling still fills him when he says it. He can see the glint of Yuuri’s ring even at this distance, catching the light as he drops into a sit-spin.   
“Ugh, whatever. Just stop being gross.”   
Viktor finally drags his attention away from Yuuri long enough to look up at the teenager properly. He’s been more moody than usual lately, and Viktor chalks it up to puberty. He remembers intensely what it had been like for him at that age. He’d kept his true feelings as private as he could – he’d wanted to cultivate a specific image for the public, but it certainly hadn’t been enjoyable. Yurio, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care if anyone liked him or not. _I suppose it’s more freeing that way, to not care_ , Viktor thinks. _If a little grating for others_.

Yurio skates away and Viktor pulls himself back to his feet. Slowly he makes his way over to where Yuuri is having a quiet conversation with Yakov. He’s smiling a little, which means Yakov isn’t annoyed with him, so Viktor doesn’t worry too much about interrupting.   
“Sorry Yakov, but I need to steal my beautiful fiancé for a moment,” he says as he skates in, wraps an arm around Yuuri’s waist, and drags him away. Yuuri yelps, flailing before he finds his feet to follow. Yakov grumbles to himself, then shouts at them to hurry up.

“Viktor,” Yuuri chastises as they stop on the other side of the rink. Viktor leans against the wall and invites Yuuri to do the same. “We were talking.”   
“You can talk later,” Viktor says dismissively. He watches Yurio sail past and smiles to himself. He’ll have to time this perfectly.   
Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “What’s so important that you had to tell me now?”   
“I wanted to talk to you about our careers. Past and future.”   
Yuuri’s shoulders drop. His brow furrows and his weight becomes heavier against the wall. “What about them?”   
Yurio flashes by again, landing a perfect triple lutz. Viktor makes the calculations quickly in his head. He smiles at Yuuri. “You’ll have to work very hard to catch up to my past achievements.” He shifts a little closer, until their sides touch. He leans over, lips brushing his neck as he says, “After all, I do have five gold medals.”   
Yuuri’s breath hitches. Viktor catches a glimpse of Yurio from the corner of his eye. He’s slowed down a little and scowls at them as he passes.  
“Viktor…” Yuuri’s catching on. He tries to pull away but Viktor drags him back with an arm around his waist. Flush against each other, Viktor smiles again. It’s serene and calm, the opposite of Yuuri’s confused expression.   
“You know,” he says, raising his voice just enough “I’ll probably go down in history for what I’ve achieved.”   
Yurio’s getting closer. He can see the disgusted expression on his face. Viktor pulls Yuuri as close as he can and whispers loudly, “But history won’t be the only thing I go down on.” 

Yurio’s scream echoes across the rink. It makes Yuuri jump, almost immediately forgetting the terrible line his fiancé just dropped as he twists to watch the teenager skate viciously away from them. Viktor laughs and buries his head in Yuuri’s shoulder. With a shake of his head, Yuuri pushes him away.  
“What is going on with you and Yurio?” he asks.   
Viktor grins. “Nothing, darling. Now, maybe you could show me that quadruple flip you still can’t land properly?”

 

4.

“Ah, Viktor,” Kolya chuckles. “It is good to hear from you again. But give me a moment, I need to check the oven.”   
Viktor smiles at his laptop screen as Kolya gets up slowly from his chair, grumbling a little about old bones. He beckons at someone out of the frame and says, “Yuratchka, come keep Viktor company while I finish those pirozhkis.”   
Yurio whines in Russian about how annoying Viktor is, but as Kolya moves away, he comes and sits down in front of his grandfather’s computer, pouting and rolling his eyes. “I don’t know why you keep talking to him,” he mutters in English. “He’s my grandpa, not yours.”   
“He loves me.” Viktor stretches his arms above his head. The video chats with Kolya had taken a backseat over the past few months, with the whirlwind of Yuuri moving in and then the stress of immediately being thrown into intensive training. But he’d missed them. It’d started years ago with messages about how Yurio was doing, and since then it had morphed into a friendship that Viktor cherished.

He tilts the laptop screen a little to reduce the glare. Yurio sighs heavily, but before he can say anything, the door to the bedroom swings open and Viktor looks up to see Yuuri entering.   
“Oh, I didn’t realise you were busy,” Yuuri says apologetically, holding his phone aloft. “Hello Yurio!”   
The teenager rolls his eyes and huffs. Viktor shrugs. “Yurio’s keeping me entertained until his grandpa comes back. I wish he could send me some of those pirozhkis.”   
“You talk to Yurio’s grandpa?” Yuuri sits down on the bed beside Viktor, keeping his phone at an angle that means Viktor can’t see what’s going on on the screen.  
“Yes, he loves me. What do you need, _luchik_?”   
Yuuri gives a little laugh. “Phichit’s flown over to America to see Leo and Guang-Hong, and they wanted to say hello.” He turns the phone and Viktor can see that Yuuri’s been video calling them. Phichit’s sandwiched between the other two skaters in a small hotel room, all three of them grinning widely.   
“Viktor!” Leo waves. Phichit holds up the hand not currently occupied with his phone and says, “Hi Viktor! Hi Yurio!”   
Viktor realises they can partially see his laptop from this angle. He shifts it around until the view is better and says, “Yurio, be nice and say hello.”   
Yurio scowls. “What are you, my father? Shut up.”   
“Leo was just telling me about a girl that was interested in Phichit,” Yuuri grins.   
Phichit covers his face and laughs. “No!”   
“I told him that you needed to hear this story as well!” Leo seems giddy with excitement. “It wasn’t even Phichit she was interested in! She knew he was friends with Yuuri and wanted him to give something to him!”   
Yuuri’s eyes widen. “What?”   
As Viktor laughs, Guang-Hong smiles. “You won’t believe what it is.”   
Phichit’s jaw drops. “You didn’t _keep_ it, did you?”   
“Of course we did!” Leo grins. “I’m sure it was expensive. Besides, she desperately wanted Yuuri to have it!”   
“No!” Phichit shouts, but he’s trying not to laugh as Guang-Hong disappears off camera for a moment. Viktor watches in amusement as he returns holding something that he himself is quite familiar with. As Leo says, “Guang-Hong’s so precious, he didn’t even know what it was!”, Viktor wonders if Yuuri knows. He cocks his head. Waits.

The question is answered for him when Yuuri, brow creasing, asks hesitantly, “What _is_ it?”   
Immediately Leo starts to laugh. Phichit blushes as the American snatches the small object from Guang-Hong, who’s glaring at him, and waves it in front of the camera. “You’re joking, right, Yuuri?”   
Viktor nudges a little closer to Yuuri, kissing his cheek. “Do you know what a vibrator is, darling?”   
He can’t keep the laughter out of his voice. And he certainly can’t keep it back when it all clicks in Yuuri’s head and he claps a hand over his mouth. He lowers it long enough to shriek, “ _Phichit_!”.

Viktor falls back on the bed in fits of laughter as Phichit tries to defend himself, although the words are almost lost beneath Leo’s hysterics and Guang-Hong’s sniggers. “Don’t blame me! I didn’t know what it was! It was all boxed up when she gave it to me! Besides, she didn’t look creepy!”   
Yurio gags in the background and Viktor suddenly remembers he’s there. “You have the weirdest fans.”   
“And you don’t?” Leo shouts to be heard over all the noise.   
“Mine don’t give me gross stuff like that!”   
Viktor sits up again, wiping at his eyes. “Give it a few years, Yurio. You’re still young.”   
As he huffs in annoyance, Viktor grins. Yuuri’s still staring at his phone in horror, although he’s alternating between covering his mouth and his eyes. “Phichit, you need to get rid of it. Right now!”   
“No way!” Leo says, before dissolving into giggles.   
Viktor leans in close to Yuuri. He nuzzles into his neck, smiling as he drops small kisses up to his jaw. “Ah, poor Yuuri. You’re just so innocent. You’re just so sweet.”   
Yuuri jumps at the sudden contact but doesn’t pull away. Viktor waits, considers whether to finish the line or not. _I really shouldn’t. It’s a little more risqué than the others. Especially in front of his friends._ He bites his tongue hard, trying not to laugh. _Oh, he’s going to_ kill _me._ He whispers just loud enough for everyone to hear, but low enough to be sensual. He can’t help himself. He really, honestly can’t.

“As long as I have a face, you’ll always have a seat.”

The reaction is a little slower than the other times. It’s as if they all have to take a moment to realise what he’s said, and find the appropriate response. But when it comes, it’s glorious. Guang-Hong slaps both hands over his mouth. Leo doubles over, disappearing off screen as he laughs. Phichit shrieks louder than Yuuri, who freezes up, processing the terrible, _terrible_ line. And then he shoves him away, mouth open in shock.

“ _Viktor!_ ”

From the laptop comes an angry stream of Russian. Viktor watches Yurio throw the chair aside and storm off, shouting to his grandfather that he wasn’t allowed to talk to Viktor anymore. He comes back for a moment, his whole face taking up the screen as he hisses, still in Russian, “That’s the worst one you’ve ever said.” He shuts off the video, ending the call, but Viktor turns away to deal with Yuuri who’s currently trying to apologise for his fiancé’s behaviour.  
“I can’t look at you the same way anymore!” Leo cackles. Phichit looks scandalised. Yuuri begs for their forgiveness, says, “I have to go. I have to deal with him. I’m so sorry. Phichit, I’ll call you back later. I’m so sorry.”

He hangs up the call. For a few moments, the silence is deafening. Viktor watches him carefully, biting his lip so he doesn’t laugh. Yuuri doesn’t look at him. He takes a few deep breaths.

And then suddenly Yuuri’s hands are on his shoulders, pushing hard, and Viktor falls on his back. Yuuri swings one leg over to sit across the other’s hips and glares down at him, leaning heavily on his hands.   
“What was that for!?” He’s half shouting, but Viktor doesn’t detect any actual anger in his voice. It’s more like exasperation. He feels safe enough to smile. “I couldn’t help it, Yuuri. The opportunity was there!”   
“And so were Phichit and Leo and Guang-Hong and Yurio!”   
“They’re hardly children. Leo was waving a vibrator around. Oh, remind me to ask him to send it to us.”   
Yuuri points a finger at him, the threatening gesture softened by the embarrassment in his voice. “Don’t you dare.”   
“I will.” Viktor smirks. He reaches up to twine their fingers together, but Yuuri grabs his hand. He tugs it around until his palm is firm against his ass. Viktor raises an eyebrow as Yuuri returns the smirk. _Oh, he’s_ dangerous _when he’s like this_.   
“If you do, then I will _never_ let you touch this again.” He pulls Viktor’s hand away and sits up. Viktor stares at him, jaw loose, all cockiness out the window. “You wouldn’t.”   
“I would.”   
_He would._ _  
_ In a flash, he grabs Yuuri’s shoulders and pushes him to the side, rolling until he’s the one kneeling over him and Yuuri’s pressed into the bed. He takes his skater’s hand and presses a kiss to the ring on his finger.   
“I promise I won’t.”   
Yuuri nods firmly. “Good.”  
“I’ll just buy one myself.”   
“ __Viktor!”

 

5.

Before the server can even offer him the champagne flute, Viktor’s waving him away politely. He’s not about to repeat his performance from the banquet, and Yuuri’s already sworn not to drink tonight. The server floats away to another target, and Viktor turns his attention back to the minor argument breaking out between the two Yuris.   
“I still don’t get why you had to drag me all the way to _Canada_ ,” Yurio snaps, arms tight across his chest.   
Yuuri rolls his eyes and starts to speak, but Viktor interrupts. “Because we needed a plus one.”   
Yurio stares at him. “You _have_ a plus one.”   
Viktor wraps an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. “Alright then. Your grandfather asked me to get you out of the house. Apparently, you’ve been locking yourself in your room and you spend all hours chatting to someone online.” He winks. “Wouldn’t happen to be a certain Kazakh skater, would it?”   
All the colour drains from Yurio’s face. He splutters, “That’s none of your business! And besides, getting me out of the house doesn’t mean _dragging me to Canada_!”   
Viktor waves him off dismissively. “It was the easiest way. We were coming here anyway and JJ was more than happy to invite you as well.”   
“I bet he wasn’t,” Yurio muttered.   
“Maybe we should have asked JJ to invite Otabek too. Then you could have had someone else to talk to!” Yuuri says cheerfully.   
Viktor’s not entirely sure whether he’s being serious or joking around. But as Yurio lets out some colourful Russian curses, he catches Yuuri’s wink and laughs. _He’s going to be the death of me, I swear_. 

Before Yurio can call Yuuri anything worse than ‘piggy’, someone sweeps up behind them. Viktor doesn’t have to turn around to know exactly who it is.   
“Enjoying yourselves?” JJ grins. He’s dressed in a well-tailored suit, and as Isabella swans over to the group in her detailed white lace dress, Viktor has to admit they’re the second most beautiful couple he’s ever seen.

After himself and Yuuri, of course.

“Congratulations,” Yuuri says warmly. Yurio mutters something under his breath and sneers.   
“We’re glad you could make it,” Isabella says, then turns to Yurio. “Even you.” She ruffles his hair – he pushes her away and glares, but doesn’t say anything.   
“It was a wonderful wedding,” Yuuri says. Viktor grabs him around the waist and pulls him in. “But not as beautiful as ours will be!”   
With a laugh, Yuuri pushes him off. Isabella smiles mischievously and with a wink, says, “Well, at least we’re actually married.”   
“Yes, we are” JJ laughs. He pulls his new wife into his arms and dips her, planting a loud kiss on her lips. Viktor’s not sure he’s seen him so happy since the last time he won gold, and even then, this happiness is different. It radiates through him, from him, every cell of his body exuding joy and blissful contentment. A pang touches Viktor’s heart. He still doesn’t know how to bring up to Yuuri that he’s made a terrible mistake in saying to wait for the gold, and he’d very much like to marry him now.

Yurio rolls his eyes and scoffs. “You’re all disgusting.”   
The urge hits Viktor without warning. He can’t keep the grin off his face as he runs a hand down Yuuri’s back. “Have I told you yet how gorgeous you look, darling?”   
Yuuri sighs, but his cheeks flush and he looks away. Viktor settles Yuuri’s suit jacket properly on his shoulders and smooths out the slight wrinkles in his shirt. A much better suit than that hideous one he’d once worn. “You know, this shirt is very becoming on you.” Out of the corner of his eye, he spies Isabella flagging down a server and taking a glass of champagne. Yurio’s trying to ignore everyone in his immediate vicinity. JJ’s staring adoringly at the woman he’s just married. He winks at Yuuri and finishes, “If I were on you, I’d be coming too.”

It’s perhaps his favourite reaction so far; Isabella, having just taken a sip of her champagne, snorts with laughter and it shoots out of her nose. Thankfully it misses her dress, and instead spatters the floor. JJ blinks like he’s missed the joke, but then it dawns on him and he sniggers. Yuuri drops his face into his hands and moans, “ _Viktor_.”

Viktor jumps in surprise when Yurio shoves the pair of them apart. With a glare, he announces, “That’s it. I’m getting on a plane right now.” He storms off, shoving past people to escape as quickly as he can. Yuuri swats his shoulder. “ _Why_. Why do you keep doing this to me?”   
Viktor chuckles, presses a kiss to the tip of his nose. “No reason.”   
They stand there for a moment, Viktor’s smile softening as he gazes at Yuuri, at the blush that’s spread across his face and the mock annoyance in his eyes.

JJ’s the one to interrupt the moment. “Would he actually go get on a plane?”   
Both Viktor and Yuuri’s faces fall at the same time. Yuuri bites his lip. “He would, wouldn’t he.” It’s not a question. Viktor grabs his hand and starts to run after Yurio, leaving JJ and Isabella laughing behind them.

 

1.

Viktor’s already laughing to himself when he reaches the front door of his apartment, clutching the package to his chest. He’s been waiting for these to arrive for nearly two weeks and finally, _finally_ , he has them. He pushes open the door, already calling to Yuuri to show him the surprise.

It’s him that gets the surprise as he kicks the door shut behind him. Sitting around the kitchen table is not just Yuuri, sipping a large mug of coffee, but also Yurio and Otabek. Otabek’s nursing his own coffee and Yurio’s finished his, swirling his finger around the rim of the cup. They look over at him, Yurio greeting him with a scowl and Otabek tipping his head up in a single nod.   
“Viktor,” Yuuri smiles. “Look who came to visit.”  
“Yurio said you were flying over,” Viktor says, meeting Otabek’s gaze. “I didn’t realise you were going to come visit us as well! How long have you been here?”   
“Only about fifteen minutes,” Yuuri answers. “Otabek wanted to come by and say hello before they leave town. Otabek’s taking Yurio away for a few days.” He smirks, and Viktor realises suddenly that he wants Yuuri to do that a _lot_ more. “It’s so romantic, isn’t it, Viktor!”   
Yurio, whose face throughout the entire conversation has slowly been turning redder and redder, snaps, “Shut up! It’s not like that.”   
Otabek just shrugs. Yurio slides down further in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. Yuuri, too sweet for his own good even when teasing, gestures with his mug to the package now dangling from Viktor’s hand. “Did you pick up the mail?”

He lifts the slightly-battered package and says, “Oh, yes, I did.” The grin returns with full force. _It’s too perfect. Even Yurio’s here. I couldn’t have planned this any better if I’d tried_. “Remember when I was shopping online a few weeks ago?” He tears open the package and delves inside. “Well, it arrived.” He pulls out the box inside. Holds it up. Waits.

Otabek says nothing. He didn’t expect him to. Yurio takes one look at the box and both embarrassment and frustration cross his face. Yuuri sighs heavily and gives Viktor a long-suffering, tired look, although a smile plays at his lips. “Really?” He shakes his head. “Olympic condoms?” At the word ‘condoms’, Yurio bangs his head against the table with a long groan. He grabs at his hair and mutters, muffled, “I’ve had it. I’m done. I hate both of you. I never want to see either of you again.”

Viktor tosses the box in the air, catches it in one hand. He winks. “Guess I’ll be wearing gold tonight.” 

Yurio screams into the table. Otabek raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t speak. Instead he rubs Yurio’s shoulder lightly, which seems to relax him a little - moving the screaming down to another long frustrated groan. But Viktor only has eyes for Yuuri, who’s still casually sipping on his coffee. He’s a little surprised. He thought he would have gotten some sort of reaction. Perhaps it wasn’t his best line, but surely Yuuri should have at least blushed?

Yuuri looks at him over the rim of the cup, glasses perched on the end of his nose, and Viktor knows he’s in trouble. “I don’t know, Viktor. Maybe you could wear silver and come second for a change.”

The atmosphere in the room changes instantly. Yurio lifts his head, stares at both Yuuri and Viktor in turn. Otabek’s eyes widen. Viktor’s jaw drops, and the box falls from his hand. _Did he…?_ The silence stretches on, broken only by Yuuri taking another sip from the mug.

And then it shatters completely as Otabek starts to choke. One hand is curled loosely around his mouth, keeping it from view, but there’s no hiding the fact that he’s trying his best not to laugh out loud. Yurio stares at him. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out. Viktor’s slightly worried they may have broken him.

He looks back at Yuuri. He’s calm, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Viktor shakes off the wounded pride as best he can and says, a little awed, “Katsuki Yuuri.”  
Yuuri keeps his head lowered, looking at him through his lashes. Viktor’s knees nearly go out. “My full name,’ Yuuri says a little too softly for Viktor’s legs to be able to handle. He staggers slightly, presses a hand against the wall to keep himself steady. “Am I in trouble?” 

He’s trying very hard not to rush across the room and have his way with Yuuri right there on the table. In the pin-drop silence, Otabek clears his throat and gets up. He grabs Yurio by the back of his hoodie and nearly lifts him clear off the ground. Without hesitating, he pushes him towards the door, the younger teenager spluttering in shock. “Good to see the both of you,” Otabek says politely as he steers Yurio past Viktor and out the door. He all but slams the door behind them and it’s as if the sound breaks the spell they’re under. Viktor flies across the room, hauls Yuuri from the chair and shoves him against the closest wall. Yuuri grips his shirt as they kiss, hard and fast and heavy and _good_.   
“Katsuki Yuuri,” Viktor breathes – barely. It’s like this beautiful human being has stolen all his life and left him raw and jagged and so, _so_ in love. “You continue to surprise me.”  
“I’d hate for you to get tired of me.” Yuuri’s a mess beneath him; his glasses askew, his hair messy, lips and cheeks red. He pushes Viktor back a little with a finger at his chest. “That said…” He makes sure Viktor’s looking him in the eyes before he continues. Viktor’s not looking anywhere else. “If you ever try to use another bad pickup line on me, I will never kiss you again.”   
“Deal,” Viktor says without hesitation.   
“Promise?” Yuuri’s giving him that damn look again, batting his eyelashes, and Viktor’s about to lose all control. “Yuuri, if I don’t get you in bed in the next thirty seconds, I think I’m going to die.”   
Yuuri laughs. It’s soft and breathless and touches Viktor in places he didn’t even know he had before he met him.   
“Then you’d better hurry up.”

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, unbeta'd


End file.
